The audiologist, a kind woman called Sandy, said: ‘That buzzing might mess up our readings. Do you want to look at the message and start the test again?’
‘Could I? It’s a friend I’ve been worried about.’
But it was not Kim. Just Stevie saying, ‘Call me.’
‘Do you mind?’ asked Edward. ‘I’m worried it might be urgent.’
The audiologist said, ‘My mum and dad listen to your show every night so they’d be very upset if I got in the way.’
He asked Stevie: ‘What’s up?’
‘Kim.’
‘What?’
‘Have you heard from her?’
‘No.’
‘I went around,’ said Stevie. ‘She behaved so weirdly. Sent me away.’
‘What? You two are mates!’
‘I wondered about trauma.’
‘I’m at the hearing aid place. Let me come straight to you after that.’
An hour later, he was at the vicarage. Stevie’s parents were out. He called Kim and put the phone on speaker as it rang.
‘She won’t pick up.’
Just as Stevie said it, Kim answered with a strained ‘Hello?’
‘A week! That’s the longest time we haven’t spoken for in recent history.’
‘I’m sorry. Feel free to have a go.’
Steve chimed in. ‘I’m here too.’
‘Hi Stevie.’
‘I wouldn’t have a go, Kim. You sent me a text and so I knew you hadn’t been abducted or, I don’t know, exploded.’
‘Exploded? Have you had a series of exploding girlfriends?’
‘Not in that way, no.’
Stevie laughed. ‘We were worried for you. That was traumatic.’
‘For you too, Stevie, with your brilliant lasers. But it’s not that. And I can’t say what it is. I just can’t tell you. Not on a phone. Not by text.’
Edward asked, ‘In person?’
‘Watch your TV in about ten minutes.’
‘He’s at my house,’ said Stevie.
‘Put the news on.’
